Joyful Girl
by Ada Evol
Summary: I decided to exercise my right of poetic license, and created a little sister for Jack. This is only the first chapter, and the story is under constant construction as the show goes on to insure accuracy. For the moment, though, please R&R!
1. Inklings

It was all around her. Noise and heat and grime. She could not see it or hear it, but she could feel it. Acutely, in fact. It applied pressure on her skin, made her claustrophobic in her own body, and forced her eyes open. A bright blue dome in front of her. A seatbelt still clutching her firmly, and the seat half-buried in sand. It was impossible for her to process all of these tiny bits of information. So instead she let them slide into her understanding piece by piece.

And then the pain shattered the barriers that shock had put up. She could feel it pulsing in her neck, just below her ear. Her fingers trembled as she raised them to feel for the pain. Cautiously, she felt her way to the source, and withdrew in horror as her fingers brushed the sharp certainty of metal. Dug beneath her skin. How deep she could not estimate, and she wasn't about to either.

Instead she opened her mouth in an attempt to scream. Her vocals were muffled, though, drowned out by the other screams which abounded in that clear azure sky.

- - -

Even the drone of the blowdryer could not overcome the argument taking place downstairs. Casey flicked her hair and rolled her eyes at the reflection which mimicked her movements. She tried not to listen, but her mother's voice at nearly dog-whistle pitch was hard to ignore.

"Jackie! You're never home! When you come to visit, you leave a few hours later! Have you no sympathy for your mother?"

It was true, what she was saying. But Jack was busy. He was a doctor- what did her mother expect? Casey switched off the blowdryer and convinced herself she hadn't done so just because she wanted to hear what Jack had to say. Nevertheless, his calmer tone drifted up the stairway and into her little bathroom.

"Please, Mom. It's been a hard couple months at the hospital. You know I would rather be here than at that shit-hole apartment."

"Jackie! See what happens when you leave your mother's home? You start talking like that. And you look so skinny. What have you been eating? Take-out, I'd suppose."

"Now you're just nagging."

Casey gasped mid-eyelash-curling, and took up the mascara, clutching it to her breast like a totem. She quickly exhaled when she heard the sobs.

"Oh, this is what I deserve. I raise you right, and you treat me like your father does. Just up and goes, and you're becoming just like him."

"I'm not going to listen to this, Mom. Really. Thanks for breakfast. Everything was delicious."

The front door began to creak open when she heard slippered feet patter quickly to the foyer. The voices suddenly grew low, and Casey was forced to put down her cover-up and move to the top of the stairs to catch the conversation.

"Jackie. I'm begging you. Stay one more day. Your sister is sick. You haven't even said hello. Please. I need you to help me with her."

Casey froze. The muscles in her limbs turned rigid and her eyes narrowed instinctively. Defensive posture.

"What?"

The anger in his voice had suddenly been reduced.

"She's sick Jackie. Real sick."

"I. AM. NOT." Not one of them had been prepared for this response. Not even Casey herself. The words had jumped from her throat and left her feeling raw. Her mother's eyes were wide with surprise, looking up at her daughter. It suddenly occured to her that this wasn't the mother from her baby pictures. This mother's face was drawn and sad. But it was the look on Jack's face that made her sink slowly to the floor. The way his face contorted.

The way he bit back disgust.

- - -

"Casey, Casey. I need you to just calm down, okay? I'm going to fix it. It isn't that bad." This was standard doctor technique. A habit he had picked up at the hospital and had worked its way into the rest of his life. Talking over and over to comfort the patient. She couldn't complain. It worked. Her body grew lax and she whimpered, her eyes locking with his.

As he carefully felt around the metal piece, she studied his eyes. They were hazel, like her own, and the only testament to the fact that the same blood flowed through both of their veins. Like their father's.

"Hey, Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened?"

Her brother offered a tiny hint of a smile and shrugged his broad shoulders. He looked her squarely in the eyes, and then began to rip off a section of his shirt. Bandages. How thrifty.

"Alright. You ready for me to take this out?"

"I will smack you if it hurts."

"I'll tell Mom if you do." A tiny giggle escaped her chapped lips. He would never betray her to their mother.

"Alright, alright. Just do it you big bully."

She braced herself for the pain, but the blood she had not been expecting. It spurt out into her face and she cringed as Jack bound it tightly.

"It isn't deep. You'll be fine, I promise. And you can give me that smack later. But right now, promise me you'll stay here. There's a lot of hurt people. I don't want you to get lost."

She nodded. She hadn't planned on moving. But how lost could she get, anyway?


	2. Danger, Will Robinson!

**Author's Note (12/16/05): Sorry this has taken me so long to update. I've been quite busy as a freshman in college, and really haven't had the time. Anyway, I'm going to try and keep my interest, as long as other people seem interested. So if you like, review often! I promise to keep you happy. On to the second chapter!**

- - - - - -

Her eyes flashed open when her throat felt the slickness of water sliding down it. She spluttered in protest, and felt the water slipping down the wrong tube, causing her to choke. The strong arms that had been cradling her head gently sat her upward.

"Dad?" Casey managed to ask between coughs. Her vision was blotted with black spots, but she could tell that the man who held her wasn't her father.

Jack. He was balanced on the balls of his feet, supporting her back with one firm hand and his knee. His eyes were heavy with concern, but his face held the impassive expression of a doctor probing his patient.

"How long has this been going on?" He turned his hazel eyes from his sister to his mother. Casey's eyes swept up to her as well. Their mother hovered above them - her wrinkled hand flat against her lips. Her eyes, blue and so unlike her children's, flitted from one progeny to the next.

"Months now, the doctors guess. But they said it could have been going on years before. It's just gotten so extreme. Oh, Jackie. I should have known, shouldn't I have? I should have picked up on the symptoms," Mrs. Shepherd's words poured out of her unrestrained. Tears began to trickle down her face, falling into the hollow of her breast.

"Months? God. When did you know? Why didn't you tell me?"

"A few weeks ago. She blacked out at track practice. You were so busy, Jackie. I didn't realize how bad it was."

"Jesus, Mom. This is a mess. Look at her! What are they doing for her? Why isn't she in a hospital?" Jack's voice rose in volume as he spoke. His mother shrank back, while in his arms Casey shook with indignation and effort. She forced herself up onto her arms, refusing Jack's support. She looked deep into herself, and sucked strength from her marrow, and turned to face him.

"Don't you dare talk about me like I'm not here! Don't you dare! You aren't my father! You don't have that right!"

- - -

She leaned her head against the seat, and closed her eyes. The sun tickled her exposed skin with its warmth. All around her she could hear the shouts, the cries. She could feel sand in her Vans slip-ons. Sand stuck on her shins. A soft breeze tossed her blonde bangs across her forehead.

She opened her eyes again, and finally took in the scene of chaos that lay before her. A mid-section of the plane that they had been riding was rolled on its side, a gaping and angry mouth. Most seats had been tossed from the wreckage, like hers, and she could see people in various states of injury crawling from the flames. Corpses were splayed about the beach. The living were struggling amongst the dead.

It was a man with tawny hair who first caught her attention. He was swaggering around the debris, picking up objects that interested him and shoving them in a duffel bag. No one seemed to notice him. The other survivors were more concerned with getting to safety. It wasn't until he reached for a pink backpack that Casey got the nerve to unbuckle herself and leap out of the seat.

"Hey! That's mine, you hear! You get away from that!" The words traveled faster than her legs could carry her, but her body wasn't too far behind. Her calf muscles pumped fiercely as the man hesitated. Her fluid sprinter's movements allowed her to snatch the bag from his grasp before he could react.

"Watch yourself, Speedy." His level blue gaze met hers, and they locked together.

"Watch _your_self, cowboy. Don't touch my stuff." Casey held her head high as he walked towards her. Sure, he stood a few feet taller than her, but she was sure she could outpace him if she needed to. He didn't give her reason to, though. Rather than reach for the backpack, he flashed a charming grin, and gestured as though he was tipping his hat to her.

"You got guts, Speedy. I'll give you that. But don't think I'll give you the next bit of baggage you decide you want from me." With that he turned and sauntered off to pick among the rubble.


End file.
